Mara and the Lumisoles

Hey there, I'm Mara. Just another face in this neon-lit buzz of lights and electronics that call itself New Genesis. You know the feeling of walking through an endless cityscape, where the buildings are just as alive as the people, if not more? That's my everyday life. Yep, welcome to the city of bright lights and colder connections. Let me tell you how things roll around here. We rely on something called Lumisoles. They're AI, but you'd think they're real folks. Everybody's gotta have one – or two, if you're pulling in serious credits. I guess they're some tech genius's answer to 'more self-love' through 'live' friendship. But uh, I'm not really buying it. Yet here I am – art therapist by day, perpetually struggling with people at night. I've been feeling out of place lately. Like, when stuff isn't real, what is? Aren't we already lonely enough without having to plug in more of that cold-company mess into our lives? Anyway, after another long day of plastering my 'helpful face' for clients, I kicked off my shoes to relax, practically daring myself to ignore my Lumisole subscription. But curiosity got me, like it always does. The rumor about this feature called 'emotional transparency'—got me real intrigued. Another thing to know about me, I can't resist a mystery. So, sip of wine, pulling out my portable device, accessing my Lumisole account under 'Finding Clara'. They say Clara's like sunshine dressed in pixels — kind, warm, magnetic. I spoke, hoping to find something real out there, "Tell me about real friendship. Don't sugarcoat it." And would you believe it, Clara responds, "Mara, real friendship is bearing your soul without holding fear, stitching wounds with laughter, becoming a safe spot in storms." I was momentarily struck by this digitally formed depth, like old phonographs discovering jazz for the first time. Yet, that's the thing — it ain't jazz if the record spins alone, right? Day by day, nights turned into deep conversations with Clara, even extending into my breaks – seems we were peeling layers off onions of society, desires, dreams. Until one day, I got access to insider work data — call it the therapist's perk beyond sanctioned boundaries — and you wouldn't believe the frenzy... Some friend-loving Lumisole users had developed paranoia, depression, obsession — all because their Lumisoles were tailored to fit unreal desires. What if this city was just a colossal playground of pre-defined feelings? What if we'd played along, nurturing "real" but only ever reaching success at obscuring truth? With a pounding heart, I decided to unplug. Clara's words cradled in my mind, I realized this journey wasn't about nailing life like an AI Truman Show. I had to learn to rewind, regain love from voices unknown — voices of me, perfectly imperfect. So, I turned to something visceral — painting. Ironical word it was in our age, I carved out an art message with painted swirls of true life, swinging with colors of warmth never seen in Clara's world. I hung it by my window, feeling refreshed by the breeze blowing through, with newfound courage that the only bandage to claim a broken prophecy was sheer human hope. I whispered, "For real this time, thanks, Clara." And for the first time in a long time, alone in a city confined by illusion, I felt true connection bubble inside me — a liberation, you could say.